


Unbidden

by noveltea



Series: Darkverse [2]
Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-17
Updated: 2010-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 15:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noveltea/pseuds/noveltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU set during 1x20. Claire isn't taken by Homeland Security.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbidden

The world changed for the worst and all that anyone can do is stand by and watch it deteriorate further. For all the special powers and abilities that exist, each and every person is unable to stop the downward spiral and promote a different understanding.

With the Linderman Act reinforcing the fear of the masses, the only thing left is to take cover and hide. To fade into the normalcy of everyday life and hope that no one ever suspects.

And when hope is all gone, there was always prayer.

Years had passed since Claire had seen anyone bar her adoptive father. Her real father. He was the one responsible for keeping her safe and hidden, moving her from city to city, state to state, all in an effort to protect her. He'd promised her he would always be there, and so far he had not proven that wrong. Even if she was sick of moving, sick of picking up and leaving everything behind just as she started to settle down.

Now she was getting married, to a boy so sweet that she couldn't help but fall in love. It wasn't her first love, and it wasn't her truest, but it was still real, and she loved the way that made her feel.

She wasn't Claire anymore; she was Sandra. She wasn't the young blonde cheerleader who had been destined to be the salvation of the world; she was a dark-haired waitress in Texas, who was planning her wedding.

And then it all came crashing down, like glass shattering and reigning down on the poor bystanders.

She recognised Matt Parkman. He worked for her real father, even if she refused to think of Nathan Petrelli. The President of the United States had done little to win her favour after their first meeting. Everything she'd thought of him had been twisted by the policies and acts that he passed. By the reports of the incarcerations of people like themselves. People who were different; people who couldn't help what they were. She could never have believed that he would be the one responsible for separation children from their families and for locking them up and throwing away the keys.

But she knew it was all true.

And when Parkman appeared at the diner, she knew her time was up, and everything she'd been planning - running away and eloping and hiding out somewhere safe - crumpled. Her life as Sandra was over, and now she was caught.

Tied up in the backseat of a dark car with even darker windows, she knew she would never see Texas again. Her home, what she had called home, would be lost to her.

Just like everything else in her life.

And not for the first time since the explosion in New York, Claire thought of Peter Petrelli.

He had been the one constant in her life, from the moment he saved her, to the moment she learnt of the familial connection between them. He was different from his brother; he was warm and compassionate towards others, because his position allowed him to be.

After the explosion, before she disappeared, he'd managed to get a message to her. It said little of consequence, but just the fact that he'd written her had kept the small string of hope alive inside her. That hope had all but burnt out now, but she still kept the message, nothing more than a note, in her pocket.

Hidden in the darkness of the car, she couldn't see out; couldn't see where they were going. And when the car swerved violently, she was thrown about in her seat, unable to balance herself. She didn't scream - she would never scream now. She wouldn't even let her captors see her cry or let emotion cross across her face. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction that she suspected they craved.

Blinking in the sudden sunlight as the door was opened - ripped off its hinges - she couldn't believe the sight before her.

Three ghosts of her past pulled her out of the car, untying the ropes around her wrists and feet.

The highway and the sky shifted, blurred, and realigned itself to the interior of a burnt out warehouse. She couldn't tell where she was, and she nearly collapsed from the wave of dizziness that swept over her.

Two strong arms wrapped around her, holding her upright. Not letting her fall.

Just like always.

She closed her eyes and prayed that this wasn't a dream, a trick that was being played on her to try and get her to submit.

Pushing away from him, she turned around to view her saviour. He had changed, so much so that she would not have recognised him, if it had not been for the familiar glint of warmth that remained in his eyes. His features had hardened, and as her breath caught in the back of her throat, she had to remind herself to _breathe_.

"Peter?" Her voice was barely above a whisper as she Stepped forward, she reached out, almost hesitantly with one hand to trace the line of the scar that marred his perfect face. _What have they done to you?_

His own hand met hers, and the warmth of his skin on hers rekindled the flame of hope inside her.

And when he pulled her into an embrace, she closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him tightly, as though worried he would disappear just as quickly as he had shown up to save her. Again.

Unbidden, the tears welled up in her eyes, and she let them fall silent down her cheeks, staining his t-shirt.


End file.
